C20 THE PAGE HE NEVER DESTROYED

Samuel’s silence lasted long enough for Isabella to understand that the answer would change everything.

She stood across the table from him, her father’s letter in one hand and the phone displaying the anonymous message in the other. Alexander watched from beside the laptop, his patience nearly gone.

“What did you do with the original page after my father died?” Isabella repeated.

Samuel rubbed his forehead. “I took it from Daniel’s office.”

Isabella’s fingers tightened around the letter. “You took evidence from my father’s office and never told me?”

“I was trying to protect it.”

“From whom? The people who changed the agreement, or the people asking questions?”

“From everyone.”

The answer only made her angrier. Samuel had known the missing page could prove whether Hartwell Designs had been taken through deception. He had watched her search for answers while keeping the most important piece of evidence to himself.

Alexander pulled out a chair but remained standing behind it. “Start from the beginning. No more partial explanations.”

Samuel explained that he had worked late at Hartwell Designs on the night Daniel died. Earlier that evening, Daniel had called him, asking him to preserve a separate set of financial records. Daniel sounded worried. Someone had obtained a copy of the partnership agreement that did not match the terms he remembered approving.

Samuel had offered to contact a lawyer, but Daniel refused. He wanted to confront Richard first, believing an explanation might prevent both families from being dragged into a public scandal.

“He said he was meeting Richard at a restaurant near the old Sterling headquarters,” Samuel said. “He told me to prepare copies of the financial records and wait for his call.”

Daniel never called.

Samuel learned of his death the following morning. He went to Hartwell Designs before the office opened, hoping to find the records Daniel had mentioned. His father’s office had already been searched. Drawers stood open, papers were scattered across the desk, and the filing cabinet containing partnership documents had been left unlocked.

Someone had arrived before him.

Samuel found the original agreement page inside a folder pushed behind a lower drawer. It contained the restriction Martin later confirmed had disappeared from the working copy: neither family could transfer ownership without the other party’s written consent. The page also carried Daniel’s and Richard’s signatures, along with a witness signature at the bottom.

“Whose signature?” Alexander asked.

“I didn’t recognise the name,” Samuel replied. “I only knew the person had witnessed the original terms.”

“Where is the page now?” Isabella demanded.

“I still have it.”

For a moment, nobody moved. Isabella had spent weeks following financial records, hidden letters, and anonymous warnings. The missing page had been central to the mystery, yet Samuel had kept it within reach all along.

“You expect us to believe you kept it safe for all these years?” she asked.

“I know how it sounds.”

“You know how it sounds because you’ve had years to prepare an explanation.”

Samuel explained that he had hidden the page in a sealed document case at a storage facility registered under an old business account. He paid the fees himself and never used his Hartwell credentials to access it.

But he had not visited the facility in years.

“Why not?” Alexander asked.

“Someone followed me the first time I tried to move it. I saw the same car outside twice. I stopped going after that.”

“Did you report it?”

“I had no proof. After Daniel died, the company was already collapsing. I thought if I stepped away, whoever was watching me might believe I had nothing useful.”

Isabella looked at him, still unconvinced. “And when you received threats, you said nothing.”

“I was frightened. I didn’t realise they were trying to find out whether I still had the page.”

Alexander’s anger sharpened into purpose. “We’ll retrieve it. First, we verify the account, document every step, and make copies before anyone handles the original.”

Samuel agreed to take them there.

Before leaving, Alexander contacted his security director. The director discovered that the storage account remained active, but someone had recently asked the facility to confirm its registered owner. The inquiry had been made two days earlier.

Isabella turned to Samuel. “You told me you hadn’t accessed the case in years.”

“I haven’t.”

“Then someone knows about it.”

Samuel’s face drained of colour. He had believed the document was safe because its location was secret. Now someone appeared to be searching for it.

They travelled to the storage facility on the outskirts of the city. It stood among rows of small commercial units and locked document rooms.

At reception, he presented his identification and requested access. The clerk checked the system, then frowned.

“There’s a note on your account. Management has instructed us not to release the contents until the ownership information is reviewed.”

Samuel stiffened. “Who gave that instruction?”

The clerk could not say. The request had arrived through the facility’s legal contact, accompanied by a document claiming the unit contained property connected to a disputed estate.

Alexander explained that they were investigating suspected interference with evidence. He asked the clerk to preserve the records and identify whoever had submitted the request.

She agreed to contact management but refused to unlock the unit until the hold was reviewed.

“Can they remove it?” Isabella asked.

“Not while the dispute is recorded,” Alexander replied. “But we need to know who filed the claim.”

The security director called with an update. The request had been submitted under the name of a legal representative associated with the Hart family’s estate. It was not the same office that had contacted the archive provider, but the submission carried the same reference code.

Someone was coordinating the attempts to obtain the records.

Samuel stared at the code. “I’ve seen that before. Daniel said it belonged to a private arrangement between the families. I thought it referred to the account, but it may identify the legal file itself.”

Alexander sent the information to his legal department. They confirmed that the code had appeared in an old estate proceeding involving both families. The filing had been sealed. A request to transfer custody of the original partnership agreement had been approved shortly after Daniel’s death, but the name of the approving official was missing.

Isabella read the entry, anger replacing her frustration. The same pattern had appeared repeatedly: a decision recorded, a name removed, and evidence hidden behind official procedure.

Alexander asked the security director to preserve the facility’s records while they waited for legal clearance. He would not allow anyone to remove the case, but forcing access without proper authority could jeopardise their evidence.

Samuel sat near reception, staring at the floor. “I should have told you sooner.”

“Yes, you should have,” Isabella replied.

“I thought keeping the page hidden would protect you.”

“You decided what I could handle without asking me. My father did the same thing. Look where that left us.”

Samuel had no answer.

Her phone vibrated. An anonymous message appeared: THE PAGE YOU ARE LOOKING FOR WILL NOT SAVE YOU. YOUR FATHER SIGNED THE AGREEMENT KNOWING WHAT IT CONTAINED. ASK WHY HE CHANGED HIS MIND.

Isabella showed Alexander. “They’re trying to make us doubt the document before we see it.”

“Or they know something about the signature,” he said.

Samuel leaned forward. “Daniel did change his mind. That’s why he was meeting Richard. He discovered the final copy was different from what he had approved and wanted it corrected.”

“Then why claim he knowingly signed it?” Isabella asked.

“Because if they can make it look as though Daniel approved the terms, they can argue Hartwell’s collapse was legitimate.”

The facility manager returned with approval for a supervised inspection. Samuel led them down a narrow corridor to a locked unit. He entered the code, opened the door, and approached a metal cabinet containing document boxes and an old briefcase.

He unlocked the briefcase.

The original page was gone.

Samuel searched every compartment, checking beneath folders and inside a smaller box. Everything else remained untouched, including financial summaries and copies of Daniel’s correspondence. Only the document they needed had disappeared.

Isabella felt her certainty collapse. Someone had entered the case and taken the page without disturbing anything else.

Alexander called the security director, who requested access logs and surveillance footage. The manager confirmed the unit had been opened once in the past month using a temporary authorisation issued by management.

The visitor’s identity was recorded on a separate form.

When the manager returned with a copy, Samuel stared at the signature.

“I never authorised this person,” he whispered.

Isabella took the form.

The signature belonged to Victor Hale.

Before she could speak, Alexander noticed a small envelope tucked beneath the briefcase. Inside was a photograph of Daniel sitting across from Richard at the restaurant on the night he died. Between them lay a document, its final page turned toward the camera.

On the back, someone had written: THE PAGE IS GONE. BUT THE PERSON WHO SIGNED IT IS STILL ALIVE.

Isabella looked at Samuel, then Alexander. Victor had taken the original page, but the message offered another lead: the witness who signed the agreement might still be alive.

If that person could confirm what Daniel had agreed to before the document changed, the truth about her father’s death might finally come within reach.